


Random Haikyuu Sickfics

by dvixiecups



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cold, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvixiecups/pseuds/dvixiecups
Summary: Sickfics from my tumblr (haikyuu-sickfics)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 184





	1. Sick Sakusa

If there is one thing everyone knew about Kiyoomi Sakusa, it’s his great dislike of crowds, which stems from his even greater dislike of germs. These dislikes kept him safe. Safe from ailments which commonly plagued society. However, his avoidance of germs fell weak in some areas. These areas being Motoya Komori, no matter Kiyoomi’s efforts to educate his team's libero on the importance of personal hygiene, the optimistic player continued to prance around with no regard to any microscopic bugs which could enter his system at any given moment. 

“Oh come on! You know I have the strongest immune system!” Motoya remarked, giving himself a hardy slap to the midsection.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a carrier,” Sakusa responded, narrowing his eyes at his all too hyper companion. 

The two had arrived at the training camp the day prior and already Sakusa wanted nothing more than to leave. According to one of the coaches, an attendee of the camp had come down with some sort of bug and had to leave early. What was the topic of discussion was the fact that the coach took great care in not disclosing what exactly the bug was. This lack of information resulted in heavy speculation among the remaining attendees, it was even thrown into the air that the bug was one which resulted in hospitalization or even death. However, this rumor was shot down immediately as another coach admitted the bug to be one which affected the stomach.

This news did nothing to quell the anxiety rising in Kiyoomi. His over caution affected his practice, what with his avoidance of touching anything which may have come in contact with the sick player. The coaches, annoyed with his behavior, eventually gave him latex gloves to wear during play. And so, practice continued, until it didn’t.

Everything came to a screeching halt when Atsumu, who had been setting mediocre at best the whole game, fell to his knees. The volleyball which had just left Atsumu’s hands flew right into the face of Kiyoomi before falling to the floor and rolling away. Everyone on court stopped and turned their attention to the fallen setter, who was currently hunched over the ground with saliva dripping out of his mouth. Water filled Kiyoomi’s ears as he backed away, stomach twisting and heart racing in fear. He tried to swallow down his fear but his mouth felt as dry as the desert in the middle of summer. The muffled voices of people yelling to get a bucket and Atsumu’s unproductive retches echoed in the spiker’s cotton stuffed ears. Finally, a wet belch erupted out of the setter and a splash echoed throughout the gym. A couple of coughs later and another splash rang out, this time sounding as though it was in a bucket.

Kiyoomi felt hands around his own, pulling him away from the scene. The dizziness throughout his limbs left him too weak to pull away, so he allowed himself to be dragged by whoever was pulling. Shaking hands reached up to wipe away the tears which Kiyoomi only just realized were there. Terror flooded through him as he realized the gloves were still on his hands. The exact gloves which spiked and received the same ball touched and set my Atsumu. The same Atsumu who was on the floor sick. A hand began circling the panicked player’s back, Kiyoomi assumed the hand belonged to whoever dragged him over here. Finally deciding to look up at whoever was accompanying him, Kiyoomi felt a minor relief as he met eyes with Motoya.

“You should pro-bably take those gloves off,” Motoya remarked, holding out the ‘O’ in probably and pointing to the gloves which hugged the nervous spiker’s agile hands. 

Kiyoomi nodded, peeling his gloves off and tossing them into a nearby trash bin, the initial panic of seeing Atsumu vomit beginning to wear off. 

The rest of the day went on fine. Practice resumed once the mess in the gymnasium was cleaned. Kiyoomi still felt uneasy, panic still swimming around in his gut, but he was able to ignore it. 

Day 3 had begun and the first half went without incident, fortunately the only symptoms Kiyoomi felt during the night were illusions and he managed to avoid the bug. The gymnasium was alive with noise, from the soft pmph of a ball making contact with a body part to the ‘nice kills!’ which were shouted out every so often. Everything was completely normal. Too normal. The normality of the day made Kiyoomi suspicious, his eyes narrowed and looking all around to find something, anything wrong. 

Finally, he did. Out of the corner of his dark green eye he spotted Motoya being led out of the gym, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. His face was screwed up in discomfort, he paused momentarily, only for a coach, who was visibly distressed and not hoping for another mess, to usher him outside. Shock flooded Kiyoomi as he realized what this meant. Motoya, who Kiyoomi was around the majority of the day, is sick. His eyes widened, and the yells of his teammates stormed his ears as he noticed the volleyball bounce plainly at his feet. Contrary to what happened yesterday, Kiyoomi’s mouth felt wet, far too wet than what was normal. Whether having the bug was his imagination or not, he felt sick. His stomach felt like a stormy day in the middle of the sea, one of those storms which could capsize entire ships. The angered yells of his teammates soon turned into concern as Kiyoomi brought his hand to his mouth. Panic was written all over his face, from his wide eyes to the deathlike pallor of his face. Beads of sweat began forming over his brow and the calm part of Kiyoomi’s brain was begging for him to run outside. So that he tried, though no matter how much force he put into his legs, they felt glued to the ground. Suddenly he felt a cold plastic bucket being pushed into him. The hard plastic being pushed directly into his gut did nothing to help his situation, though he did wrap his remaining arm around it to hold it up. An unpleasant sensation pushed against his abdomen, causing Kiyoomi to let out a cough. This made everything feel too real. Realization of what was about to happen suddenly dawned on Kiyoomi. Saliva dribbled out of his mouth, which felt strangely dry. Clamping his jaw shut in order to cease the saliva falling out of his mouth, he swallowed. A decision which he regretted almost as soon as he did it. The extra fluid in his stomach set something off, suddenly a ball shot up Kiyoomi’s throat, causing him to led out a large belch which echoed around the bottom of the bucket. Before he had a chance to breathe in after the burp, a thick wave of vomit poured out of his mouth nostrils, landing with a slash at the bottom of the bucket. He took a deep breath in, taking advantage of the slim opportunity he had to do so. Another gurgle came from the back of his throat as more vomit spilled into the bottom of the bucket. The putrid smell wafted back up into Kiyoomi’s face, his back arched as a harsh gag ripped through him, but his stomach felt a bit settled. Looking up from the bucket and seeing all the people surrounding him caused red hot embarrassment to mask his face. One person stepped forward and offered him a paper towel, which he hesitantly accepted. After blowing his nose and discarding the soiled napkin into the bucket, a water bottle was thrust into his open hand. Grateful to get the acidic taste out of his mouth, he swished the water around in his mouth before spitting that back into the bucket as well. 

A coach gently laid his hand across Kiyoomi’s damp back, “Hey kid, I’m gonna take you to my office, okay?” Before he had a chance to respond, the coach led him away and to the office. Also in the office was Motoya, who was seated on a chair near the window, hunched over a bucket with a moist rag laying across his neck. The coach pulled out a chair and motioned for Kiyoomi to sit. Soft noises of various items clashing could be heard as the coach rummaged through one of the desk drawers, finally he presented a thermometer which he motioned for Kiyoomi to put in his mouth. Hesitant at first, as a result of the skepticism of the hygienic qualities of the thermometer, Kiyoomi did eventually stick the room temperature thermometer under his tongue. After a minute or so, the coach reached his hand out for the small device, Kiyoomi pulled it out before handing it over.

“Only 37 degrees, looks like you aren’t sick,” the coached murmured, “better get chya outta here so you don’t catch whatever he’s got.” The coach remarked, tilting his head towards the ill libero. 

Kiyoomi nodded, leaving the office before the coach had a chance to hold him there any longer.


	2. Motionsick Suga

“Alright guys, you’ve been working hard lately so we’re going on a trip!” Coach Ukai announced, presenting a poster for the nearby amusement park.

Excited cries of the team echoed throughout the gym, Yuu was all but bouncing off the walls while Chikara was trying his best to get Ryuu to keep his shirt on. Amidst all the excitement, Koushi could feel waves of uneasiness flow through his body. At the root of his unease was his inexperience with coasters and fast moving objects. However, the team's enthusiasm infected Koushi and he found himself cheering right along with the first and second years. Diachi and Asahi, being considerably more mature than Koushi, expressed their excitement in a quieter manner. 

The day of the trip drew near, and as it did, Koushi managed to find ways to excuse the concern nagging at the back of his mind. He was not about to allow the negative emotion overpower the joy of having a team outing. Members of Karasuno who were attending the trip were told to meet in the school's lot at 8 in the morning. Koushi and Daichi were among the first to arrive at 7:50, slowly the rest of the team began to trickle in. Shōyō and Tobio were the last to arrive at one past eight. Overflowing with noise and excitement, the bus left the lot at ten past eight. Koushi turned around in his seat to make conversation with Chikara and Hisashi. 

After what seemed to be hours, the bus came to a grinding stop outside of the park. Karasuno formed a small group outside of the bus, awaiting instruction from the two adults. 

“Okay guys! I have a couple of rules to go over before you can go into the park. Firstly, stay in groups of three or more. Secondly, be respectful!” Takeda and Ukai both looked at Yuu and Ryuu as this rule was spoken, “And finally, stay hydrated and have fun!” Takeda clapped his hands together and motioned for the team to go towards the park. Daichi, Koushi and Kiyoko banded together for their group, Asahi had been dragged off by Yuu and Ryuu, and by the look on the Ace’s face, he was not happy about it.

“So what do you guys wanna do first?” Koushi asked, excitement evident in his tone, “That coaster looks fun!” He added, pointing towards a large metal coaster with more than one loop.

“We should start off small, then do those rides,” Daichi inputted, “How about the teacups?”

Kiyoko nodded to Daichi’s idea, and so the three made their way towards the spinning ride. Once the three third years had waited in the queue for around 10 minutes, they were finally allowed onto the ride. 

It started off slow, however the large plate in the center of the cup was beckoning Koushi to spin, so he did. Giving a smirk to Daichi, the setter began putting all his strength into spinning the disk, taking his hint, Daichi placed both hands on the plate as well and began spinning. Kiyoko yelled out in joy as her hair whipped around her face. The moment was picturesque, all three with large smiles plastered on their faces. However, as the ride went on, Koushi began feeling something other than joy. The feeling was rooted in the same area as excitement, yet the feeling was harsher, and definitely not pleasurable. Koushi’s smile faltered a bit, and he put less strength into spinning the cup. Daichi flashed him a look of concern, but Koushi dismissed him by widening his smile. Finally, the ride screeched to a stop, Kiyoko was still laughing, her hair a wild mess from the extreme wind, Daichi also had a smile playing on his lips, however a drop of concern was flavoring his brown eyes.

“You guys hungry? I sure am! We should get food then ride more rides,” Koushi was hoping the uncomfortable feeling in his gut was a result of hunger. His two companions nodded to his idea, and so they went on the hunt for suitable food.

Fried foods and sweet foods danced in the air, both fighting to win over the attention of any wandering guests. The smells sank to the bottom of Koushi’s stomach and seemed to have a fight of their own down there, much to Koushi’s appreciation, the feeling wasn’t as strong as it had been on the ride. Allowing him to once more chalk up the pangs as hunger. A stand selling hot dogs is what ended up attracting the small group.

By the time the food was in his hands, Koushi felt fine. He happily gulped down the hot dog, smiling at the warmth of the food. Kiyoko and Daichi were about half way done when Koushi stood up to toss his food wrapper. Once more, excitement flourished throughout his body, as well as anticipation to ride one of the bigger rides. 

“So,” Koushi dragged out, glancing between his friends and the rollercoaster which towered over the park.

“You sure that’s a good idea? We just ate,” Daichi replied, once again understanding Koushi’s not-so-subtle hint.

“What if we go on a small ride while our food digests and then go on the big ride?” The setter offered, his heart set on riding the large coaster.

Defeated from Koushi’s puppy eyes, Daichi looked over to Kiyoko as if asking for her input, she shrugged, but didn’t make any move against the proposition. With a sigh, Daichi looked back at Koushi and agreed to his plan.

The small ride which they ended up choosing was the ferris wheel, which was technically not small as it towered high into the air, but it wasn’t an extreme attraction like the rollercoaster. In fact, the ride proved to be very pleasant. The third years talked about what’s been going on as well as their plans for the future. A faint aura of sadness surrounded the three as realization struck about their graduation. Eventually, the ride came to a graceful stop onto the ground, and the three walked off the ride Koushi happily led the way to the queue entrance for the towering coaster. Doubt began pooling deep in Koushi’s gut, but it was drowned out by the overflowing amounts of excitement he felt.

The queue was significantly longer than the one for the spinning cups, and by the time the three got clicked onto the ride, all doubt was erased from Koushi. A ride attendee began listing off safety requirements for the ride before signing off with a deadpanned ‘Have fun’ Koushi looked to his sides and smiled at his friends as the ride took off with a blast. Cries of joy filled the air as the track winded and dropped. The first loop came and went, with Koushi smiling the whole time. Then after a few more meters of track, the second loop came. Koushi’s smile faded a bit as heavy nausea began nesting in his gut. Another few meters of track came and went and finally the final loop was here. Koushi’s smile was completely faded now, replaced with a tight line. His body flew forward a bit as the cart came to a screeching halt. The ragdoll treatment did nothing to help his current situation.

As the mechanical restraints flew up, Koushi’s shaking hands struggled to unclick his belt as fast as possible. Much to his dismay, his friends on either side of him were taking their time. As soon as Daichi stepped away from the ride, Koushi hurried out and ran out of the exit doors.

Once he walked onto the main path for the park, his eyes quickly looked left and right, scanning for a trash bin. Finally he spotted one and hurried towards it. He used his hand to push open the flab and stuck his head in. A foul smell of rotting food drifted up into Koushi’s nose punching him in the gut. He let his mouth lul open, allowing warm metallic saliva to dribble out and land with a disgusting splat on top of the preexisting waste in the bin. A heavy weight pushed against his abdomen as the first gag ripped through his slender body. Hot liquid began rising into his throat. Only now did he realize the situation he was in. Red hot embarrassment exploded through every limb in his body as another heave racked him. This one was productive in bringing up a mouthful of undigested hotdog. The awful taste only forced Koushi into another harsh gag which brought up a far thicker wave. Tears began streaming down his face, a result of the pain in his stomach as well as the pain of embarrassment. Suddenly, he felt large hands begin to rub calming circles onto his back. The touch only encouraged Koushi’s stomach to continue emptying itself, his back arching into the hands. After a couple seconds of being free from illness, Koushi pulled his head out of the bin. He sheepishly looked up to his friends, Kiyoko shoved a cool bottle of water into Koushi’s hand. 

“So, uhh maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, huh,” Koushi admitted after swishing water in his mouth and spitting it onto the ground. The other third years didn’t find his comment funny.

“Are you okay now?” Kiyoko asked, worry etched deeply onto her face, “I called for the coaches and they should be here soon.

As if on cue, Takeda rushed over, near tears from worry, Ukai walked up, any trace of concern masked by extreme annoyance.

“Are you okay? We should sit down,” Takeda worried, wrapping a supporting arm around Koushi and leading him to a nearby park bench.

Ukai said nothing, which said everything to Koushi. The setter scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m good now. I guess this isn’t a good time to say that I’ve never ridden a roller coaster, huh.”


	3. Faker Bokuto and Sick Akaashi

Koutarou’s tendency to get in trouble would be Keiji’s downfall. Everyone on Fukurodani’s volleyball team knew how dependent the team's ace was on the second year setter. The captain's dependency put a weight of pressure onto Keiji’s shoulders. Pressure to perform well not only for himself, but for Koutarou, which in turn forced him to perform well for the entire team. Luckily, Keiji thrived under pressure. He had his way to deal with any situation, be it Koutarou’s emo mode, Koutarou getting an injury, or his personal least favorite; Koutarou catching an illness. Fortunately, the last of those 3 instances happened very rarely, and even when it did happen, it was nothing too serious.   
Which is exactly why Keiji felt so panicked right now.

From the morning, Keiji had a sour feeling in his stomach, a feeling which seemed to perfectly resemble the pit he got in his gut every time Koutarou entered his emo mode. All day, Keiji fretted over what the terrible encounter would be, and when. Both of these questions were answered as Koutarou crumpled to the floor mid spike. A low moan emitted from Koutarou’s throat as he wrapped his large arms around his abdomen. Quickly, Keiji rushed over to Koutarou’s weak form.

“Bokuto-san, can you get up? We need to get you home,” Keiji deadpanned, wrapping his arms around Koutarou to provide support.

A weak nod was all Koutarou expressed as he slowly made his way to a hunched standing position. Coach Yamiji walked up, his attention caught by the small group circled around the ace and setter.

“Yamiji-sensei, Bokuto-san is unwell, may I take him home?” Keiji queried upon the new arrival.

“Ah, yea. Make sure ya get outta ‘ere before he gets everyone else sick. Stay safe you two,” Turning his head to Koutarou he added, “Get better soon.” 

With a clap, the coach directed the rest of the team's focus to himself, and Keiji continued the rough process of getting Koutarou outside. After a bit of struggle, which was only worsened as a result of the pain continuing to bite at Keiji’s midsection, the two made it outside, and quite a distance from the school. 

-

“Do you think it worked?” Yamato asked Akinori back in the gym.

“Yea bro, did you see how good of an actor he was?” Haruki butted in, referencing Koutarou’s collapse.

“He was! I just hope he’s able to get to the festival without getting yelled at,” Akinori added, voicing his concerns of Keiji getting mad at Koutarou for his bold plot to skip out on volleyball. 

The whole team, including the coach, was in on it. The original plan was for Keiji to finally get a break from supporting the team, and who better to show Keiji a good time then Koutarou.

-

Back at where Koutarou and Keiji were walking, Keiji began to grow suspicious of how well Koutarou was walking without support.

“Bokuto-san, you don’t seem sick. Were you faking?” Keiji asked, his face morphing into one of disapproval.

“Aka----ashi!” Koutarou exclaimed, walking around to face Keiji, “Of course, and I got everyone in on it! I’m s’pose to take you on a break!” Koutarou confessed, grabbing Keiji’s wrist.

Despite any trouble being resolved, the awful feeling remained deep in Keiji’s stomach. For the first time all day, he was able to really focus on the hot bubbling feeling, and able to realize it was something so much more than worry. Nervous from his new findings, his initial upset over Koutarou’s lie almost dissipated. 

Pulling his wrist out from Koutarou’s grip, Keiji began, “Bokuto-san. I don’t need a break, we should go back to practice,” he paused a couple times to lift his hand to his mouth and stifle bubbles of air rising up.

Koutarou took notice of Keiji’s awkward behavior, much to the dismay of the latter. 

“Akaashi?” Koutarou whined in concern, “Are you okay?”

He did not get an answer. Everything started happening too fast, Keiji felt his stomach start to ache far stronger than before. His mouth began to salivate, and he clasped his hand over it in fear of making a mess. Koutarou’s eyes widened as he lay a large hand across Keiji’s mid back. 

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san,” Keiji affirmed, swallowing down the excess liquid in his mouth.

Worry was still etched in Koutarou’s face, but a flock of birds overhead quickly caught his attention and soon enough, Keiji’s moment of weakness completely escaped his mind. But for Keiji, the moment was far from gone. The churning feeling had all but faded, and Keji began to find it difficult to even stand. Fortunately for him, Koutarou was too caught up in the animals flying overhead to take note of Keiji’s struggle.

“Akaashi! Do you see them! Do you see the birds!” Koutarou marvelled, eyes wide to the sky.

Keiji’s lack of response caused Koutarou’s attention to return to the second year. Just as his head whipped around, Keiji’s knees buckled. Quickly, the team captain threw his arm under his falling friend and helped to gently lower him. 

Saliva dribbled out of Keiji’s slightly ajar mouth as his stomach clenched. At this point, Keiji didn’t even have the energy to reassure Koutarou of his well being, lie or not. After a particularly hard clench, Keiji let out a loud retch, and his back arched in a way which forced him to place his hands in front of him in an effort to support the rest of his body. Koutarou, not knowing what else to do, rubbed large circles on Keiji’s back and pulled out his phone to call for help.

They stayed in that position for a minute or so, Keiji trying his best to hold down whatever was trying so hard to force its way out of him, and Koutarou hovering at his side uncomfortably. Finally, Keiji gave up, a loud belch echoed out of him, bringing with it a thin wave of vomit. The grotesque taste it left on the setter’s tongue incited another, larger, wave. Not much came up, as Keiji didn’t eat too much throughout the day- his stomach pains seemed to cause a lack of appetite.After the second wave, Keiji felt finished. Pulling his handkerchief out of the pocket of his jacket, he dabbed his lips and chin.

“Let’s go Bokuto-san,” he deadpanned, slowly pulling himself off the ground. Embarrassment caused heat to hug his cheeks, they weren’t exactly in the most private setting and Keiji could feel bystanders eyes burning into him.

Koutarou, not much knowing what else to do, obliged. After about 3 minutes of walking, Keiji doubled over once more, letting out a loud retch as he did so. Koutarou resumed his position at the side of Keiji, rubbing large circles onto the smallers back. Keiji let out a couple more gags before a productive heave sent a small splash of bile onto the concrete. At this point, Keiji’s throat was burning and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on his bed and fall asleep. His legs felt weak and his vision was swimming. Dizziness yanked at his limbs and swam throughout his core.

Taking a deep breath, Keiji began, “Bokuto-san. Can you take,” but before he could finish his request, his vision went fully back and his knees buckled.

Panicked, Koutarou scooped his arms under Keji and lifted him up in bridal style. It was an easy feat, Keiji was light and Koutarou was strong. Surprisingly, despite the two being so close, Koutarou had no clue where his friend lived, so he began the long walk to his own house.

Keiji only stirred slightly throughout the long walk. For this, Koutarou was silently thankful, it was safe to assume the former hadn’t been getting much sleep as of late. It was a but of an inconvenience to Koutarou, his house wasn’t exactly close to Fukurodani, which is why he took the train everyday, but he knew this was a minor inconvenience in comparison to all Keji went through for him. 

Relief washed through Koutarou’s body as his house came into view. Judging by how Keiji was still out, Koutarou was ready for one long night. Letting out a sigh filled with many emotions, he fished his key out of his pocket, and unlocked the door, fully unprepared for the long night which awaited him.


	4. Sick Tendou

“I did it!” Tsumoto cheered out as he spiked the ball past Satori. Eyes wide with pride, he looked over to the other members of the team, expecting praise.

“You’re really going to get excited over it happening one time?” Kenjirou muttered in disapproval, “He’s clearly not even doing his best today,” the salty setter added, motioning towards a slightly more hunched over than usual Satori.

What he said was the truth, almost the entire team could see it. Satori looked over after hearing his name mentioned. 

“Now that’s not nice to say!” He exclaimed in mock offense, walking over giving Kenjirou a friendly slap on the back, much to the latter’s dismay.

“No, he’s got a point,” Wakatoshi added, walking up to where Kenjirou and Satori were talking, “Are you sure you are well to be practicing?” He continued, eyeing Satori’s appearance.

The Ace’s concern was highly warranted, seeing as Satori’s eyes offered a glossed appearance with dark bags hanging heavily under them, greatly sticking out from his pale complexion. The middle blocker also seemed far too tired, considering practice had only started a couple minutes ago.

“C’mon Ushiwaka! I’m fine,” Satori exclaimed, reaching an arm around Wakatoshi’s shoulder. However, this action held a secret purpose which only Wakatoshi could feel. Satori lent heavily on his friend as though he lost the energy to be able to hold himself up. Being careful to not let his unease show, Wakatoshi looked over the rest of his team, his mind searching for an excuse to lead Satori out of the gym without gaining too much attention. Fortunately, Eita was able to pick up on Wakatoshi’s inner conflict and approached with a perfectly reasonable exit ticket.

“Oh, hey! Could you two run this down to 3-2 for coach?” Eita asked, forcing a closed envelope into Wakatoshi’s hand. By the feel of it, the envelope held nothing inside, Wakatoshi nodded his thanks to the setter before half carrying Satori out of the gym. 

The air outside was significantly cooler than the gym, offering Satori a welcome relief from the heated atmosphere in the gymnasium. He sighed gratefully, allowing his hyper personality to slip away for a second. As soon as the initial relief passed, Satori looked up at Wakatoshi, allowing his glazed maroon eyes to make contact with the latter’s calm green ones. Concern flared up once more in the teams Ace as the middle blocker sank out of his arms and onto the ground. Curling into himself, Satori let out a low moan, causing Wakatoshi to kneel down. Gently wrapping his arms around Satori, he positioned the ill boy's upper half to lean against him.

“Can you make it to the room?” Wakatoshi asked, hoping to get Satori out of the public view and into somewhere a bit more comfortable. However Satori’s response- or lack thereof- only deepend the pit of worry in Wakatoshi’s gut. 

Deciding it best to get to their room, or anywhere that isn’t the middle of the hallway, Wakatoshi gently scooped Satori up bridal style. Pained moans as the movement jostled his stomach were the only signs of protest Satori had the energy to let out. Wakatoshi did have a bit trouble carrying the 158 pound boy, and the walk which was usually no more than 4 minutes ended up lasting 6 minutes. 

A small sigh of relief escaped Wakatoshi despite the back of his mind knowing this was only the beginning of a long night. The ‘long night’ theory was only confirmed when Satori let out a hiccup which sent a jolt through his thin frame. Feeling hints of panic tugging at him, Wakatoshi quickly pushed the door to their dorm open. With his foot in the doorframe, he scooped up Satori and quickly turned the corner into their shared bathroom. Gently, he set Satori down in front of the toilet. The sight of his friend kneeling on the hard floor caused a wave of guilt to surge through Wakatoshi. The guilt was short lived though, as a loud hiccup echoed around in the porcelain bowl, calling for Wakatoshi’s attention. Lingering panic resided in the captain as he kneeled behind Satori, rubbing his back and encouraging him to relax. 

Eventually, Satori’s back arched and a thick wave of vomit poured out of his mouth and landed with a resounding splash in the toilet's water. This only seemed to signal the beginning as another, slightly larger wave forced itself out of the middle blocker. Satori let out a choked cough, breathing in as much air as possible before another wave could overtake him. During this brief recess, Wakatoshi reached over the counter for a small paper cup, filling it with water before handing it over to the sick boy. 

“Well that was unexpected,” Satori exclaimed, trying his best to act normal.

Wakatoshi let out a hmph in agreement, “Do you think you are done?” “Yea, for now. I just wanna lay in bed!” Satori exclaimed, stretching his arms back.

Wakatoshi was relieved to see much of his friend's energy return. Ah, here came that familiar feeling. The butterflies which danced in his stomach whenever Satori quipped. The breath which went missing everytime Satori smiled in his direction. Wakatoshi was shocked that the feelings remained so strong even after witnessing Satori in such a state. Instead of confronting his feelings, Wakatoshi decided to focus his efforts on aiding Satori back to full health.

“Okay, I’ll help get you into bed. You should lay on my bunk for now, since I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to climb up to yours,” Wakatoshi went on, ducking his head under Satori’s arm to provide support.

The walk to their bunk bed proved to be less of a challenge than Wakatoshi had expected, and Satori was curled up within seconds.

“Ushiwaka-kun~!” The ill boy crooned, “I’m cold!” Air wooshed around the room as Wakatoshi pulled a thick throw from the top bunk.

“Hold still,” Wakatoshi instructed as he lay the blanket on top of Satori. Straightening his hands, he tucked the loose ends under Satori’s being, being sure to apply extra caution when tucking around his stomach, in fear of setting anything off. 

“I know you said you feel better now, but I’m going to grab a bucket just in case,” Wakatoshi informed as he reached under the bathroom sink to grasp an old mop bucket. While he was in the bathroom, he opened cabinets in search of a thermometer, only to feel disappointed at the lack of medical supplies.

Deciding only a bucket would suffice for now, Wakatoshi made the quick walk back to the bunked beds, and gently set the bucket on the floor by Satori’s head. Wakatoshi was just about to walk out the door in search of medical supplies when Satori began to whine. “Wakatoshi-kun~ don’t leave~” he hummed, his eyes half closed.

“I’ll be right back,” Wakatoshi informed, already halfway out the door.

Before Satori could protest any more, Wakatoshi closed the door behind him and began the walk to a nearby konbini. The walk was short and Wakatoshi was back at the dorm in no time, a plastic bag filled with supplies hanging loosely from his right hand. A wave of unease hit Wakatoshi as he opened the door to the room. Nervous, he walked down the short hall and looked around the corner.

Satori had his arms and legs wrapped around the mop bucket and his head buried deep inside. Wakatoshi was frozen until a wet burp echoed out of the bucket, followed by a resounding splash. He quickly dropped the plastic back and made his way over to Satori.

Weakly, the middle blocker lifted his head out of the bin and looked at Wakatoshi. Tears stained the rims of his eyes and down his cheeks. Another deep belch made its way out from Satori’s gut, causing him to stick his head back over the bucket. He sobbed weakly as his stomach clenched, trying to force out something which wasn’t there in the first place.

Wakatoshi felt pity punch him in the chest as a thin wave of bile landed with a splat on the bottom of the bucket. A couple more weak coughs rolled off Satori’s tongue before he leaned back. Wary of any possible headache Satori may have, Wakatoshi helped him lay back on the bed, then picked the used bucket up and set it down to deal with later.

Satisfied with Satori’s comfort levels, Wakatoshi turned away to grab a bottle of water and a thermometer from his plastic bag.

“Tendou, can you open your mouth?” Wakatoshi asked, his voice gentle.

Satori gave a small hum before opening his mouth slightly. Wakatoshi placed the small instrument under Satori’s tongue, then instructed him to close his mouth.

Wary of leaving him alone, Wakatoshi decided to remain by Satori’s side until the thermometer beeped. During this time, he couldn’t help but to admire how beauty remained on Satori’s features, despite the sickness currently circulating his body.

Pulling out the thermometer, Wakatoshi read the dim numbers. 38.2. Not a cause for extreme concern, but a fever nonetheless. Sighing, Wakatoshi then picked up the water bottle from earlier.

Unscrewing the cap, he asked, “Do you think you can sit up? You need water.”

Satori let out another hum of approval then, with the help of Wakatoshi, came to an up sitting position. His eyes had a glazed over look to them, almost as if he wasn’t really there. Ignoring this for now, Wakatoshi gently carried the bottle up to Satori’s chapped lips.

“First, rinse out your mouth,” Wakatoshi instructed, picking the used bucket up off the floor.

Satori nodded, swishing a mouth full of water around in his mouth before spitting it out in the bucket. Foul smells from the bucket drifted up into his nostrils, and his body threatened to expel more substance, but Wakatoshi was able to pull the source of the smell away before disaster struck.

“Okay, now a sip.”

Closing his eyes, Satori nodded once more to Wakatoshi. He took small sips, his dry mouth incredibly thankful for the cool liquid. After he drank a quarter of the bottle, Wakatoshi pulled the bottle away and capped it.

“Not too much for now, you’re still sick.”

Once more, Satori nodded. Placing his arm around Satori’s back, Wakatoshi helped him come to a laying position on the bed.

Satisfied that Satori was comfortable, Wakatoshi began work on cleaning up. He picked up the nasty bucket and carried it outside, walking around back of the building, he dumped the bucket out. Then, he grabbed the hose connected to the building and sprayed out the bucket. Once he was confident in the bucket's cleanliness, he began the short walk back to his room.

Loud snores reached Wakatoshi’s ears as soon as he opened the heavy door, causing him to chuckle lightly. Quickly getting back to business, the team captain placed the plastic bin on the floor near Satori’s head, then set his work up on the desk. An ill roommate was no excuse to slack off on studies.

Though, as Wakatoshi looked down on his work, he found the inability to study. Images of Satori danced in his head, distracting him from the letters on the page. As he entered the second hour of trying and failing on focusing, realization dawned on him of his true feelings.

Rotating the chair to face the beds, Wakatoshi admired Satori. His cheek was squished against the pillow and a small line of drool was leaking out from the corner of his lips. A small smile pulled gently on the corner of Satori’s eyes, causing Wakatoshi to mimic the same emotion. It was hard to believe such a pleasant look could be on someone's face after such an unpleasant day.

That night, Wakatoshi made the commitment to tell Satori his true feelings. He wasn’t sure when, exactly. But he knew at that moment, that one day Satori would be his. It’s not the cutest love realization story, but it was his.


	5. Sick Akagi

Illness was something Michinari had no experience in. Sure, when he was younger he caught the occasional cold, but nothing more. Growing up, he never even experienced motion sickness, allergies, or even food poisoning. Which is why he felt so out of his comfort zone when Rintarou suddenly hunched over in the locker room.  
Concerned and completely clueless, Michinari laid his small hand on his locker-neighbor’s hunched back.

“Are ya alright? Did’ya hurt yerself during practice today?” Michnari inquired, bending down to look Rintarou in his face.

As he did this though, realization struck that whatever Rintarou was dealing with, it certainly wasn’t an injury. Sweat decorated Rintarou’s brow which was furrowed in pain. His cheeks were slightly puffed out as though he was a squirrel just beginning to store nuts for winter. Deciding this was something which required outside assistance, Michinari peeked over the top of the locker.

“Shinsuke? Could ya come over ‘ere?” He called out to the next row, his tone a mix of urgency and concern.

Looking up from the uniform top he was folding, Shinsuke gave Michinari a blank stare before slipping on his shirt and walking around to the two.

“He’s sick, Akagi,” Shinsuke commented immediately upon seeing Rintarou, “Could you walk him to the club room? I’ll stay behind and clean up his locker. Tell coach to call his family,”

Slipping his arm around Rintarou, Michinari nodded to Shinsuke then began to lead Rintarou away. Teammates shot over concerned looks as Michinari helped Rintarou to the door connecting the changing room and gymnasium, then from the gymnasium to the outside doors. Crisp air floated in the faces of the two as Michinari pushed open gym doors. The two players were just outside the clubroom when Rintarou rooted himself to the ground.

Michinari quickly walked around to the front of Rintarou, his eyebrows raised in shock as well as concern. Just as Michinari was about to ask the middle blocker of his wellbeing, Rintarou let out a small hiccup followed by a large wave of vomit. Having been standing right in front of the ill boy, the majority of the wave splattered against Michinari’s chest.

His eyes widened in disgust as the warm liquid seeped through the fabric of Michinari’s shirt. Before he even had a chance to recover his thoughts, Rintarou coughed up another, thicker wave onto Michinari. Having regained his senses, Michinari stepped back and to the side, bringing his left hand up to rub Rintarou’s back. However, it quickly became apparent that Michinari was wearing the bulk of Rintarou’s illness.

Rintarou coughed up a final thin wave, then looked over to Michinari with heavy guilt on his face.

“Akagi-senpai, I didn’t mean to,” the second year began, the beginning of his sentence muffled as he used his sleeve to wipe away residue vomit from his lips. 

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Michinari reassured with a smile. Sure, the situation wasn’t ideal, but a little sickness never bothered Michinari.

It was at this time when Shinsuke showed up. For just a second, his eyes widened at the sight of his friend’s vomit soaked shirt. Quickly piecing together the story in his head, the captain opened the club room and placed a bucket next to the couch. Then, walking back to his teammates, he hooked Rintarou and gently ushered him down to sit on the couch. After saying a quick word with the surprised coach, he returned to where the libero was stood

“You should take off your shirt,” the captain advised, motioning to the mess on Michinari’s front.

Once attention was called to the mess, Michinari realized how uncomfortable the fluid felt. He nodded quickly to Shinsuke. Leaning forward, he slowly wiggled out of the shirt, working hard to ensure none of the sick gets on his hair or face. Michinari then tossed the shirt to the ground with a loud schlop.

Much to his dismay, removing the fabric didn’t do much to the vomit which had seeped through the shirt. An uncomfortable cold spot remained on his chest, leading him to slip into the club room and grab a napkin. He gave a small smile to Rintarou and the coach, who both had confusion etched on their faces. After wiping down his front, the libero discarded the soiled paper into the garbage bin.

Shinsuke offered Michinari a pitiful smile before bending over and picking up Michinari’s soiled shirt.

“I’ll clean this for you. I have an extra shirt in my locker, you can have it,” he offered, already beginning to walk to the locker room.

Not seeing it necessary to respond to Shinsuke’s offer, Michinari gave a small sprint to catch up with the captain, then began to walk in line. Goosebumps had already spread against Michinari’s bare skin in response to the cool air.

The trip to the locker room was quick, the only detours being curious teammates inquiring about Rintarou’s whereabouts and Michinari’s missing top. Shinsuke provided everyone with a brief explanation, then warned them all to be wary of any signs of illness. The team nodded, and Shinsuke handed a bottle of hand sanitizer to be passed around among them.

Cotton hung loosely off Michinari as he slipped on Shinsuke's spare shirt. The two were similar in height, Michinari being only an inch shorter, but Shinsuke’s athletic build caused a bit of a size difference.

Once more nodding his thanks to his captain, Michinari slipped on his sweatshirt and began to walk home.

-

Sleep would not come for Michinari that night. He tried everything, from a cup of warm water to the most elaborate sleeping positions, but nothing seemed to work. Instead of sleeping, Michinari was only able to toss and turn all night. Dark bags hung heavily from his catlike eyes, and weariness tugged at every limb on his body. Walking to school sucked every last ounce of energy from Michinari’s already weak body.

Changing into his school shoes felt like a chore for the libero, as did walking through the halls and up the stairs to room 3-6. Relief washed throughout Michinari as he sank into his usual desk. The usual hum of the class sounded watered down, almost as though balls of cotton were stuffed deep into his ears.

Any material for the day went in one ear and out the other, no matter how hard he focused his ears, nothing seemed to make sense. Words spun around and blurred on Michinari’s paper. He tried hard to pay attention, fear of having a large pile of work to do later on flooding his thoughts. When lunch arrived, Michinari pulled out his bento box. Upon opening it, the smell of his lunch foods wafted up into the liberos nose, causing his stomach to twist. Shock caused him to quickly put the lid back on the box and lean away from the source smell.

Confusion quickly replaced Michinari’s shock as the new feeling began fading. Instead of confronting the unpleasant knot in his stomach, Michinari slipped the box back into his bag and rested his head on his desk, hoping for sleep to overcome him. The bell signaling the end of lunch echoed throughout his ears, worsening his dull headache.

Michinari was so intent on chalking the feelings up to sleep loss that the ordeal after practice completely escaped his mind, as well as the thought that he might actually be sick.

The final bell seemed like a miracle for Michinari, until he remembered the hours of volleyball which awaited him outside of the classroom. Shinsuke and Michinari usually walked to practice together, a result of their classrooms being next to each other.

“Yer sick.” Shinsuke commented the moment he and Michianri came within hearing distance, “You’ve got whatever Suna got.”

“What? That can’t be poss’ble,” Michinari exclaimed, “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Yer not going to volley,” the captain stated, putting a firm hand on Michinari’s shoulder and leading him away.

Michinari couldn’t find the words to fight back, his friend was right, he was in no state to be at school, let alone participate in practice. Additionally, Shinsuke’s observation really got to the libero’s head. The more he thought on the idea of being sick, the more he noticed his sickly symptoms. Nothing healthy could explain the churning in his gut or the coppery taste lining his mouth. Even the hot ache laying on his head like a blanket couldn’t be chalked up to anything normal.

“I trust you can change yer shoes by yerself. I’m going to text Aran,” Shinsuke informed as they arrived to the getabako

A slow nod took over Michinari’s head as he began to take off his school shoes. Much like in the morning, this simple everyday act felt enervating, but he got it done. Just as he tucked his formal shoes away, Shinsuke walked up to him.

“You should call yer mom. I stay with you until she gets here, then I’m going to go to practice.”

Michinari winced at the thought of calling his mom, she would be working at this time and he knew better than to interrupt her while at work.

“Oh, uh, I usul’ly walk home,” he informed, turning away from Shinsuke and standing up.

“No, you can’t walk home alone, it’s dangerous. I’ll go with you, I’ll just need to text Aran again,” the captain informed, knowing it better than to pry at Michinari for information.

Content with the situation, Michinari allowed himself to be led out of the school by Shinsuke. Having a friend with him to help with these new, foul feelings made everything seem not as bad. It didn’t help Michinari’s muscles screaming out in pain with every step, but it was a start. Shinsuke didn’t make any comment about Michinari’s painfully slow pace, and even if he was annoyed, his face didn’t betray any emotion of the sort.

After what felt like two hours, the two arrived at the danchi where the Akagi’s stayed. Shinsuke pressed the large arrow to call for an elevator, which arrived in about 2 minutes. Once they were both fully into the elevator, Michinari slowly brought his finger up to punch the correct floor number into the elevator's suspiciously sticky buttons.

A soft click emitted from the door as Michinari twisted the key in the lock. The sweet smell of home hugged Michinari as he stepped inside the familiar area. 

“Oh, could ya put yer shoes on that rack?” Michinari asked, guestering to a barren shoe right embedded in the right wall. “Sorry it’s small,” he added, warm embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks as the two stood in the absurdly narrow hallway.

Pulling off his own shoes, Michinari neatly placed them on the bottom of the shoe rack, while Shinsuke placed his own on the center rack.

“You can head to prac-” the libero was interrupted by a sudden lurch in his stomach. Eyes wide, he continued, “s’cuse me, but you can head to practice now.”

“No, I should stay here,” Shinsuke brought his hand up to Michinari’s warm forehead, welcoming the relief, he leaned into the cool hand, “You feel hot. You should lay down, I’ll make you tea.”

Not in any place to fight back, Michinari obliged, turning out of the narrow hallway into his room, while Shinsuke went straight ahead to where the hallway opened up into the eating area and kitchen.

The futon in the middle of the room was sickly hot, and Michinari had trouble finding comfort on the small mattress. With every turn of his body, the liberos stomach lurched. His mouth was producing an abnormal amount of saliva. Michinari didn’t need experience to know what was about to happen. He hopped out of his futon and on to his feet, stumbling into the wall as a wave of vertigo slammed against him. Hearing the clashing, Shinsuke made his way over from the kitchen to Michinari’s room.

Quickly, Michinari pushed past Shinsuke and stumbled into the bathroom across the hall. Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, Michinari’s jaw dropped a bit, allowing warm saliva to drip into the toilet. His stomach gave a strong lurch, causing his back to arch heavily, and forcing puke up his throat. A small wave of his breakfast fell into the toilet with a sickening splash. At the same time, Shinsuke came to a kneeling position beside Michinari, a cup of water in his grasp. He used his other hand to massage his friend’s shoulders.

Another silent retch ripped through Michinari’s core as he shoved his face deeper into the toilet bowl. His throat screamed out in pain as he produced another unproductive gag. The whole ordeal was awful, and the only thing keeping Michinari from full on sobbing was Shinsuke’s comforting hand.

After a particularly strong lurch, hot bile forced its way up Michinari’s throat and fell into the toilet in thin strings. The pain of this wave forced more tears out of his feline eyes. After spitting a couple times in a futile attempt to freshen his mouth, Michinari leaned away from the toilet. Shinsuke’s large hand guided the libero to lean against his own body.

“Here,” Shinsuke remarked softly, “Have some water,” he gently pushed the cup of water up to Michinari’s lips.

“Use it to rinse out your mouth first.”

Michinari nodded weakly, sipping a mouthful of water, swishing it around a bit, then spitting it back out into the toilet bowl. While there, the libero took the opportunity to flush the toilet, the contents spinning down the drain almost sending him hunching right back over the toilet.

“Don’t look at that, let's get you back into yer room. The water for yer tea is probably boiling now.”

Once more, Michinari nodded, then allowed for Shinsuke to help him up, but pulled away once he was stable on his feet.

“I can walk on my own,” he slurred gently, stumbling back across the hallway and into his room. The weariness from earlier in the day was multiplied by 100, and sleep overtook him immediately when he layed down. It seemed as though now his stomach was settled, his body had no problem succumbing to a relaxing state.

Shinsuke entered Michinari’s room with steam dancing out of a medium mug clenched in his left hand. In his right, two ice cubes sat slowly melting. Setting the tea onto a dresser, he slipped the cubes into the mug. A satisfying crackling sounded as the heat melted the frozen cubes.

A gentle smile curled on the captain's face as he spotted Michinari in a peaceful sleep. Sitting around watching his friend sleep caused uncomfort to blossom deep in Shinsukes core, so he walked over to the kitchen and began tidying up. Only surface level cleanliness, including dishes and a quick wipe down of the counters.

He was just about to sweep a floor when a cough and a splatter reached his ears. Hastily, Shinsuke hurried over to Michinari, suddenly regretting his choice to not set a bucket next to his head.

“Are you done?” Shinsuke inquired, his tone laced with worry.

“Mm, I’m sorry, m’gonna clean it up,” the libero slurred, already beginning to push himself up.

“No no, stay down. I’ll clean up. Do you think yer up for tea?” Shinsuke looked over to the now room temperature cup of tea, hoping for Michinari to follow his gaze.

His eyes half closed, Michinari wrapped both hands around the tea and took timid sips while Shinsuke hurried into the kitchen and grabbed out a rag. Turning the faucet so it would release cool water, Shinsuke ran the rag under the cool, then wrung out any excess water, allowing it to splash at the bottom of the basin.

Back in the room, Shinsuke scooped up the puddle in the rag, then used a clean part of it to wipe away any excess. Not feeling confident enough in the cleanliness of a moist rag, Shinsuke returned to the kitchen and grabbed a spray bottle of disinfectant from under the sink, as well as a paper towel. Returning to Michinari’s room, Shinsuke sprayed a couple sprits of the disinfectant, causing the distinct chemical smell to waft up.

Michinari let out a weak gag in response to the hard smell, but fortunately it didn’t lead to anything else. Noticing how the disinfectant caused more harm than good, Shinsuke quickly finished wiping up the floor and hurried the bottle and soiled paper towel back under the sink and into the trash respectively.

Remembering Michinari’s fever, Shinsuke grabbed another rag, and repeated the same process of moistening it as he did with the first one. Though, instead of using this one to clean, he folded it in half and placed it gently on Michinari’s forehead.

“Try to go to sleep, I’ll stay by yer side until yer mom comes back,” Shinsuke offered, sitting down beside Michinari’s futon.

Too tired to nod, Michinari hummed, then drifted off to sleep. Shinsuke kept true to his word, and stayed awake until the older Akagi returned home. He then explained the situation to her, casting occasional looks in Michinari’s room, just to be sure that he was still asleep. While on the train home, Shinsuke couldn’t help but to notice the odd feeling brewing in his gut.

For the next week, Rintarou, Shinsuke and Michinari were all absent from practice.


	6. Sick Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for light alcohol consumption in this one

Steam danced in the air as Keiji slid a platter of various foods onto the table between the three. Kodzuken, Kenma’s channel, recently hit five million subscribers, and to celebrate Tetsurou invited Keiji and Koutarou over. However, despite the celebration being for Kenma, Tetsurou and Koutarou seemed to be enjoying themselves far more.

A loud crack reached Kenma’s ears as Koutarou twisted open one of the two bottles of Sake he and Keiji brought over. In response to the newly opened bottle, Tetsurou gave a wide grin and pushed over the small glass placed next to his plate.

“Don’t drink too much,” Keiji advised as Koutarou poured the smooth liquid into four small cups, his tone holding a combination of warning and pleading.

“Ah, Keiji! Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Koutarou sang, wrapping his arm around Tetsurou and pulling him close. The two giving wide smiles which poorly hid their devious intent

Kenma rolled his eyes at the antics of the two, knowing full well just how unbearable the two can get while intoxicated.

“No thanks, I have a stream in a couple hours and I like being sober for those,” Kenma informed as Tetsurou pushed a glass in his direction.

Mumbling something about being a party pooper, Tetsurou grabbed his glass and lifted it to his own lips. 

And at that, the night began.

He flavourful smell of the food platter caused everyones mouth to water, and food was quickly disappearing from the plate. Kenma had only grabbed a couple forkfuls of food, he didn’t eat a lot most nights and he didn’t want to start now, especially right before a stream. As it turned out, Tetsurou had other plans. Perhaps the mild intoxication had triggered a parental instinct in him, or maybe he was just tired of seeing Kenma eat so little- regardless of the reason Tetsurou wanted his husband to eat. 

“C’mon, the plates gonna be gone in a couple minutes, and you need to eat! ‘Kaashi made this whole nice thing all for you, you can’t let it go to waste~ Or do you just not like his cooking?”

Kenma looked up at Keiji guiltily. The food was good, the manga editor really knew what he was doing when it came to food. In fact, every so often Keiji would leave little plates of food on their doorstep, something Kenma greatly looked forward to. It was convenient considering how most night Tetsurou makes Kenma cook. So- as to not lose this pleasantry- Kenma ate some more. A choice which was already proving itself to be a bad one.

After he had eaten far more than usual, his phones alarm rang out.

“Shit. The stream. I gotta go, thanks for the food.” At that, he excused himself from the scene and walked into his gaming room.

It was dimly lit, the only current source of light being various buttons on his computer and the glow of random gadgets on his wall. The room was kept tidy, his leather chair was in pristine shape and the carpet decorating the floor didn’t have a spot of dirt. Kenma prided himself in this fact, this room was his sanctuary and he’d be damned if he let it get dirty. Just as he was admiring room, a sharp cramp jabbed at his midsection. Letting out a groan, he cursed under his breath and sat down with a plop in his chair.

Leaning forward, he pressed the square button on his computer tower and relaxed in his chair as it powered on. A soft chime emitted from the speakers and with a sigh, Knema leaned forward to set up for the stream. It was far more difficult than usual, the screen’s light was harsh on his eyes and the twisting in his gut caused his movements to be slow. Eventually, he was ready. The webcam screen was small and in the bottom left of the screen, and Minecraft occupied the rest. He had never played the game before, but he promised to begin once his channel reached 5 million.

With a sigh and groan, Kenma began the stream and uploaded onto his Instagram story. Almost immediately people began flooding in.

“Hey guys,” Kenma greeted to the early arrivers, “So today’s the day I start minecraft. My username is Kodzukenn with two n’s because someone took my name, not cool.”

The chat exploded with sad pepe emotes at this. On a normal day, this reaction would make Kenma smile- but he felt far from normal right now and the most he could muster was a small smirk.

“So I’m gonna start making the world right now while people are still coming in.”

Soft music began coming in through his headphones once he clicked the singleplayer button. It was pleasant, and the calm notes began pulling Kenma to sleep. Just as his eyes were about to close though, the streamer pulled himself out of the trance and muted the Minecraft music.

“I’m gonna quickly pull up some background music, then I’ll make the world.”

By now, people were beginning to notice just how run down Kenma was. His chat began flooding with messages of concern and others telling him to take a break and stream some other time. Kenma was to occupied with turning on music to notice them though.

Once a rather upbeat instrumental was going in the background, Kenma continued the creation of his very first Minecraft world. Ignoring his chats pleads for creative mode, he decided to go make the world hardcore mode. What was gaming without the constant fear of losing everything anyway?

Bright greens filled his screen and slapped Kenma across the face as the world loaded in. Animal noises sounded out loudly all around him and suddenly everything became too much. The game’s virtual sky was far too bright, the blue shade intertwining with the green grass and stabbing behind his eyes. Pressing escape on the keyboard, Kenma dug his hands into his eyes in an attempt to rub away the pain.

‘Kodzuwu_ donated 5 dollars: u don’t look gud, u can take a break if u need’ The computer’s voice rang out.

“No, no I’m good. I’m fine,” Kenma assured, putting his hands back on the glowing keyboard.

The stream continued. Kenma went through the various stages of Minecraft, ignoring the growing pain in his gut.

Unfortunately, just as he was putting his first but of iron in the furnace, the feeling became overwhelming. Nausea hit him like a slap across the face, sweat beaded above his brow and his large headset suddenly became 10 times heavier. Metallic saliva pooled in his mouth as hot liquid rushed up his throat. Taking one last regretful look into his webcam, the Kodzuken experienced the lowest point in his career and vomited down his front. On his screen, a skeleton shot him into a nearby pool of lava. Before he could even get upset about the loss of his world, another wave pushed itself out of his throat. This time he was able to grab the bin to the left of his desk.

‘Frooped donated 10 dollars: holy cow, why didnt u log off earlier?’

Kenma grimaced into the bucket as the computer voice reached his ears. His ears were red hot with embarrassment and frustration, setting the bucket on his lap he quickly ended the stream.

“Fuck!” He screamed out, not caring if his friends were still over.

“Hey Kenma, you alright?” Tetsurou asked from the door.

In response, Kenma swirled around in his office chair to reveal his current state to his husband.

“This is your fault, I hope you know.”


	7. Hanamaki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has Hanamaki's reaction to seeing a dead body so if that sounds like something that would bother you please don't read

‘This was a bad idea’ repeats over and over in Takahiro’s head as a dead man's eyes bore into his skull. 

How he got into this situation is a funny story, really. Time and time again Issei had warned his partner and soon to be husband to not visit him at work- making dead bodys up to be lowered into the ground wasn’t exactly fun to watch. Especially for someone with such a low tolerance to anything mildly scary like Takahiro. His weak heart was something Issei was introduced to very early on in their relationship- they had watched one mildly gory movie together and Takahiro was left crying into a pillow for almost an hour. This was a minor setback considering Issei’s love for horror movies, but if it meant watching cheesy rom-coms to see Takahiro smile and hear his laugh then so be it. 

Despite this, Takahiro wanted to give his fiance a surprise date. It was planned out perfectly in his head- he would pick Issei up from work a little early and take him out to the new fancy restaurant which had just opened up. Getting reservations was the most difficult bit, or so Takahiro had assumed. Seeing a dead man was certainly not on the itinerary as Takahiro didn’t take into account Issei’s job description- which was, in hindsight, a terrible decision.

As the glazed brown pupils continued their unwavering stare, Takahiro began to feel his body seize up. Fear pushed hot tears to the edge of his shaky brown eyes and swirled deep in his gut. Common sense told him to run away, if the metallic tang coating his tongue meant anything then he really shouldn’t be standing on carpet. But no matter how hard he tried, an invisible force firmly sealed his feet to the ground. Suddenly, the dead man's jaw slacked open.

This was the last straw for Takahiro. After one loud retch his lunch came up in a sudden rush, splattering down his front and soaking into the carpet below. Before he had a chance to breathe in, another wave forced its way up his throat. Choked coughs echoed around the silent room as Takahiro tried to clear his throat. His weak knees fought to keep him upright as another gag ripped through his body. Eventually his knees collapsed into the puddle with a disgusting splat.

A choked sob released from Takahiros throat as a throbbing pain shot out from his knees. Another, smaller, wave of throw up pushed its way out of his mouth as a jolt was sent out through his body. It dripped sadly down his chin before landing on his already soiled pants.

“Hello?” A deep voice echoed from one room over, “who’s there? I have a knife… Hiro?”

Takahiro’s head whipped towards the familiar voice. He could barely see the newcomer's face as tears blurred his vision.

“Holy shit, Hiro,” the voice got louder, though it was hard to tell through the cotton stuffing Takahiros ears.

A firm hand on his back confirmed his theory on the person getting closer. Takahiro flinched away, the sudden movement throwing him off balance. Before he could fall forward, however, Issei wrapped his strong arm around his torso and pulled him close. If the now cooling vomit bothered Issei, he was sure to not show it. 

The familiar smell encompassing Takahiro helped ground him. Feeling slowly came back to his fingertips as Issei rubbed a steady gloved hand up and down his fiance's back. Issei whispered comforting nothings into Takahiro’s ears in an effort to calm him. The two had been together long enough for Issei to know exactly what to say and do to help. They sat there together for a little while. Takahiros half digested food soaking into what had to have been an expensive carpet- Issei was just happy none of the mess got on his newest client. Slowly he began to feel his lovers breathing steady and his shaking calming. Only once he was sure that Takahiro was stable did he talk,

“Can you stand? You should really get out of here,”

“Mm,” Takahiro hummed noncommittally.

“Well it’s worth a try.”

At that, Issei half stood awkwardly and began to help Takahiro to his feet. They both look like absolute messes. Takahiro’s grey polo was completely ruined with a large vomit stain down the front. His lips and chin were also stained. However his blue jeans seemed to have gotten the worst of it. The knees were completely soaked, and even his shins looked awful. Issei wasn’t much better though, his white button up had become see-through where Takahiros tears had fallen. His black jeans were spotted with random bits of vomit- mostly at his knees though.

With Takahiro leaning heavily on his lover, the two left the building. Fresh air worked wonders for Takahiros state and by the time they reached Issei’s car he was standing on his own.

“I can clean that,” Takahiro offered, running a clean hand through his hair.

“No need, some guy comes by at night to clean up and he stole my wallet the other week.”


	8. Drunk Bokuto Sympathy Akaashi and Sakusa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's alcohol consumption in this one

Smooth music drifted out of the large speakers on either side of the television which sat on a stunning wood stand. On the screen was a random musicians headshot with the song name and album written out to the right of them. The artist's permanent smile twisted into an evil taunting glare with Koutarou’s intoxicated vision. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to wipe away the cruel smile which was now seared into his mind. This was an unusual feeling. Koutarou never had a problem handling his alcohol, a fact he prided himself in whenever out with friends. 

So why, pray tell, is he having a problem now when trying to celebrate a win with teammates.

He decided Atsumu was to blame. Had it not been for him and his idiotic drinking game Koutarou never would’ve been in this situation. Though it was impossible to force all the blame onto one person, Koutarou should’ve known to stop. Hell, Keiji even warned him to stop halfway through the game. But pride- and the eyes of Shouyou and Kiyoomi- urged him on.

“You okay, Kou?” The far soberer, but still tipsy Keiji asked in concern.

Fortunately, he was the only person who had heard Koutarou’s groan thanks to the background music and Atsumu’s impromptu stand up comedy show.

“Yea, of course!” Koutarou responded, pulling up a toothy grin to back his claim, “I don’t feel sick at all!”

“I never said you did.”

“Oh.”

“And that’s when I said, that’s not a camel, that’s my wife!” Atsumu’s incredibly loud voice then laugh echoed out, stealing Keiji’s attention from Koutarou.

“You make zero sense.”

“Oh c’mon Omi-kun you know you love me~”

“Don’t touch me.”

A series of thuds rang out as Atsumu tried to regain his balance after a light shove from Kiyoomi.

“I thought it was funny!” Shouyou’s enthusiastic voice called.

“Thank you Shouyou-kun, I don’t know if I could’ve taken another heartbreak,” Atsumu claimed, putting the back of his hand against his forehead to exaggerate his “grief.”

Koutarou could sense Kiyoomi’s eye roll despite facing away. Joy bubbled in his core at the antics of his friends as he stood up to join them. The sudden movement proved to be an awful idea as his stomach flipped.

Slapping a hand over his mouth and ignoring Keiji’s concerned call, Koutarou stumbled away from the main room. His free hand braced on the wall for both support and in search of the bathroom doorway. Finally he felt the opening and walked in, shutting the door behind him.

A loud retch forced its way out of Koutarou’s throat before he had a chance to kneel in front of the toilet. Panic flashed through him as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Swallowing thickly, he positioned himself over the toilet. Just in time as it seemed considering the loud gag and splash of vomit hitting toilet water which followed. Taking a deep breath in, Koutarou ran a hand through his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut as a queasy burp brought a small wave of sour vomit with it.

The foul sting of half-digested alcohol prompted another loud retch out of Koutarou- bringing with it a thick wave. He coughed in an attempt to dislodge a chunk of mildly digested food in his throat which only proved to aggravate his burning throat.

“Holy shit, is he puking?” Atsumu gasped out in the main room, bursting out in laughter at the thought.

Kiyoomi was pale as a sheet of paper, Shouyou was just sitting there with wide eyes and Keiji was on the edge of his seat, debating whether or not he should go check on his husband. After a particularly loud retch, Keiji decided that he really should go make sure everything was alright.

Standing up and fighting off a wave of dizziness, Keiji made his way to the source of the sick noises.

“Kou?” Keiji gently asked as he pushed open the door.

The sour smell hit him almost immediately.

Koutarou had his head hung over the toilet bowl, too devoid of energy to hold it upright. Every one of Keiji’s instincts told him to comfort his husband or do anything to make him better, but the sudden twisting in his stomach held him from going any further into the bathroom.

Stumbling backward Keiji made his way back into the main room, his eyes wide and his hand hovering dangerously over his stomach.

“No no don’t come to m-” Kiyoomi started, slowly backing away from the shaking Keiji.

He never was able to finish his sentence though as Keiji lurched forward to let out a wave of sick which landed directly on his lap. As soon as he finished Keiji backed away, surprised at his own body's betrayal.

“Oh,” Kiyoomi began, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“My,” Atsumu continued, his eyes wide with shock and sparkling with laughter.

“Goodness,” Shouyou concluded, his hands shielding his eyes from the sight.

Keiji wanted to apologize, but judging by the look on Kiyoomi’s face, he doubted a simple apology would suffice. And so, an awkward silence fell onto the group, only broken by another loud retch coming from the bathroom, then Atsumu’s insanely loud laughter.

“Not. Funny,” Kiyoomi commented, his voice quiet and shaky.

“Omi-omi don’t tell me yer gonna be sick now too?!” Atsumu laughed, pointing at a now scowling Kiyoomi.

“No I’m,” He paused to swallow thickly, “Not.”

His words lacked conviction, as though he himself wasn’t exactly confident in the strength of his stomach at the moment.

This lack of confidence proved to be warranted as he quickly doubled over with a gag. At this point, his stomach was twisting wildly with nausea, started by the few sips of alcohol he had consumed and worsened significantly by Keiji’s dinner cooling on his front.

“Holy shit! Yer gonna barf too now! This is fuckin’ insane! Shouyou-kun, ya believin’ this?” Atsumu wheezed with laughter much to the annoyance of the other 3 people in the room.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi threatened, the end of his sentence turning into a productive heave which resulted in vomit splattering on the floor.

His heart was racing in both embarrassment and fear. Squeezing his eyes shut to hide the hot tears forming, Kiyoomi wiped away residue vomit from his lips from the back of his hand.

“Should I, ah, get something to help clean up?” Shouyou offered, slowly lowering his hands from his eyes.


	9. Sick Sakusa- Post Time Skip

Not that he would admit it to anyone- even himself- but Kiyoomi felt off. It wasn’t abnormal for him to get pre-game jitters, but for the fluttering feeling in his stomach to remain even after warmups was definitely unusual. His uncomfort caused him to lash out a bit harsher at his teammates, crossing the line between playful banter and genuine insults. Shion had gotten the worst of it, a fact Kiyoomi was incredibly ashamed of. He held a certain respect for liberos and the fact that Shion is 4 years his senior adds to that. Had it not been for Shuugo’s early intervention, Kiyoomi had no doubt that a tense atmosphere would still be hanging over MSBY. Unfortunately though, Kiyoomi could still feel Shion's offended eyes burning into his back.

Once the louder-than-usual game horn rang out, Kiyoomi tried his hardest to force the uncomfortable feeling down. But the sound in the stadium refused to let him forget the turmoil in his gut. Each individual cheer intertwined with each other, forming a wicked cacophony which seemed intent on ruining Kiyoomi. Usually, he was able to block out the crowd's roar by immersing himself into the game. However, his usual focus refused to come to him, blocked out by the awful swirling sensation swimming in his gut. Each receive and spike only worsened the feeling and Kiyoomi wanted nothing more than to get off the court.

He couldn’t though, leaving the court at this point in the game would do nothing but attract unwanted attention. Not only that, but it would also be admitting the severity of the situation. Being sick didn’t come easy for Kiyoomi. His fear wasn’t as severe as it had been in high school or as a child, but being sick still carried a certain uneasiness with it.

And so he persevered, ignoring the pain festering in his gut and dragging his feet to receive each ball and barely being able to reach his usual top height. This worked for 2 sets, but the third one refused to end.

Persevering didn’t seem like a viable option at this point. Kiyoomi looked around desperately for help, Shion was the closest to him at the moment. Closing his eyes and hoping the latter had forgotten the attitude received earlier, Kiyoomi subtly moved over to the libero,

“I don’t feel good,” he admitted quietly, trying his best to keep his eye on the ball.

“Okay, and what do you want me to do about that?” Shion responded, the venom lacing his voice revealing his annoyance at Kiyoomi, “Just power through, we’re at set point.”

Kiyoomi mumbled an okay and stepped to the side.

The ball soared over the net at just that moment. Kiyoomi moved to receive the ball, propping his arms in front of him. After hitting his arms with a loud pomp it wavered off-court and landed sadly.

“Well, we’re not anymore,” Shion mumbled under his breath after watching the ball roll away.

Kiyoomi groaned, the feeling in his stomach suddenly becoming too much. Metallic saliva pooled in his mouth as his stomach lurched. Bending forward at the waist, Kiyoomi slapped a trembling hand over his mouth. He swallowed multiple times in a desperate attempt to keep his stomach in place. This had the exact opposite effect. In response to the saliva, Kiyoomi’s stomach squeezed. Somehow, the court seemed oblivious to the outside hitter’s struggle.

“Hey, are you okay?” Shion asked after glancing to the side, his voice holding a certain guiltiness to it.

Kiyoomis teary eyes looked up to meet Shion’s. His cheeks were flushed with the effort of holding his food down. Instead of responding with words, Kiyoomi’s stomach gave one final lurch sending a wave of vomit past his lips. The hand covering his mouth became soaked, as did the area surrounding his lips.

Grossed out, Kiyoomi pushed his dripping hand away from his face. The court became quiet as people began pointing out the situation taking place on MSBY’s side of the court. Mortified and disgusted, Kiyoomi wanted nothing more than to run off court. However, the twisting in his gut warned that this option was not possible. Suddenly he lurched even further forward, sending another thick wave of vomit splattering on the floor.

The eyes of the opposing team coupled with the audience burned into Kiyoomi. Mortification flooded his body, pushing a flood of tears down his cheeks. A sob pushed its way out of his throat, followed by a burp and another wave of sick.

A hand on his back signaled Shion’s unspoken regret. Instinct told Kiyoomi to pull away from the hand, but it provided a certain comfort that he couldn’t bring himself to step away from.

“Hey, hey let’s get you off the court,” Shuugo’s familiar voice entered.

Kiyoomi felt a strong arm loop under his arms. He appreciated the gesture, not confident in the strength in his own legs. He kept his eyes glued to the ground as his captain lead him away.


	10. Sick Tsukishima

Karasuno's first years had two distinct types. There’s the hyper and passionate ones and the ones which put down the former. The latter only applied to two members, Kei Tsukishima and Tobio Kageyama. Even now as second years, the two distinct attitudes remained. Kei and Tobio shared a neutral opinion of each other- sure in the beginning they had a bit of a rivalry, but after a year of playing together, each began to share a level of respect for the other.

In fact, though he would never admit it, Tobio began to share something more than respect for the taller boy. He was quick to chalk it up to simple admiration over the middle blockers’ skill and newfound passion for the game, but deep down Tobio knew the true nature of his feelings. When he did give Kei an awkward confession, Tobio was shocked to learn the feeling was mutual. As a result of their new relationship, the setter had begun paying more attention to Kei during practice, so much so that Tobio could tell how off Kei’s game was today. It wasn’t obvious, Kei could easily hide his distress, and it took even Tobio until halfway through practice to know something was up. A thin sheen of sweat was decorating the middle blocker’s forehead, and the occasional rub at his throat didn’t go unnoticed by Tobio.

Thinking it over, it made sense for Kei to have come down with something. Just yesterday Tadashi had left practice early, unable to properly practice as harsh coughs wracked his body, the same Tadashi who Kei could be seen with almost constantly. Tobio was almost dumbfounded at how none of the other teammates had picked up on this.

Walking up to Kei, Tobio tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re sick,” he muttered, the tone of his voice jumping from question to statement between syllables.

Kei glared down at Tobio, with an expression that spoke volumes. Being closer to the middle blocker, Tobio noticed features he hadn’t spotted before. Perspiration decorated Kei’s unnaturally pale skin. A thin sheet of glaze stretched across his golden-brown eyes which had heavy bags resting below them.

“No, I’m not,” Kei claimed. However, his voice had a rough edge to it which countered his words.

Their exchange had garnered the attention of a few nearby teammates.

“I dunno, you look pre-tty rough,” Koushi chimed in, stretching out the ‘e’ for emphasis.

A scoff forced its way out of Kei in response, though the action set something off in his chest. An onslaught of coughs suddenly tore through Kei. The lower half of his head was buried in the crook of his elbow. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as each cough tore through his throat. In hopes of providing comfort, Koushi began to gently rub his hand against Kei’s shaking upper back.

When the coughing fit had finally died down, Kei pulled his arm away. Drool stuck around his mouth, having been smeared with his elbows crook. Using the back of his hand, Kei swiped away at the tears around his eyes.

“I’m fine, my throat’s just a little dry,” to support his claim, Kei walked over to the cluster of water bottles. Though, the act backfired as his face contorted into an expression of pain as the cool liquid came into contact with his tender throat.

“Hmm, you sure you haven’t caught whatever Yamaguchi did?” Daichi queried, gently grabbing the bottle out of Kei’s shaking hands.

A frown etched its way onto Kei’s face. He pondered the question for a moment, deciding whether he should lie or be honest before speaking again.

“It’s… a possibility,” he grumbled, common sense telling him lying would lead to an undesirable outcome.

“I can take him to the club room,” Tobio offered, his voice acting before his mind had a chance to stop him, “or, someone else can. It doesn’t matter,” he quickly added, looking to the side in an attempt to hide his blush.

Picking up on Tobios clear desire to spend time with Kei, Koushi spoke up, “That would be perfect!” Turning his attention to Kei, he added, “You have a phone, right? Why don’t you call someone to pick you up.”

Koushi placed his hands on each of the player’s shoulders and ushered them out of the gym. Tobio didn’t need to be facing the older setter to see his grin.

Cool air slammed against the two as Tobio pushed open the heavy gym doors. Kei winced at the sudden temperature change and placed his left hand over his chest, massaging away an invisible pain.

“We should probably go to the clubroom and call your mom,” Tobio offered, his eyes glued to the ground.

“Mm”

The walk to the clubroom in question was short and silent. Occasionally Kei would clear his throat or cough quietly, but nothing to rouse worry in Tobio.

Once they were in the clubroom, however, Kei’s state declined quickly. The light red flush laying gently on his pale cheeks had deepened and infected his forehead. A sheen layer of sweat coated select areas of his face- a direct result of the fever burning inside of him.

Pulling himself away from Tobio, the middle blocker leaned against the wall and lowered himself to the ground. Once there he squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back.

“‘M phones in the back over there. S’got a dinosaur pin on it.”

Tobio nodded and began the search for the dinosaur bag. He smiled gently to himself once seeing the brightly colored ‘dinosaurs rule!’ pin. Unzipping the smallest pouch, he put his hand in and began fishing for the familiar feel of a cellular device. Once it seemed to not be in that pouch, the setter moved on to another. After the first two pouches failed to give a phone, Tobio angrily searched the third and finally pulled out a thick phone.

Shockingly enough, the device wasn’t password locked and it only took a minute of searching through contacts for Tobio to find what appeared to be the number for Kei’s mom. He opened it and began calling her. As soon as the loud ringing emitted from the phone Kei began coughing, hard.

Harsh, incessant hacks brutally attacked Kei’s chest as he leaned forward to hug the growing pain in that area. His eyes remained squeezed shut, now in pain rather than weariness. Tobio ran over to his boyfriend and hovered uncomfortably. Being the younger sibling, he had little to no experience in taking care of others. Hell, he even had little experience in taking care of himself- thanks to his incredibly strong immune system.

Wracking his brain for something to do to help, the setter remembered a scene from a movie he had watched where one character rubbed the others back to comfort them. It was worth a shot, Tobio mused to himself as he brought his slender hand down onto Kei’s shaking back. The moist texture of Kei’s shirt momentarily shocked Tobio but he continued to rub his hand in circles on the hunched back next to him.

“Are you okay?” Tobio asked quietly once the coughs had died down a bit.

In response, Kei leaned back against the wall and glared at Tobio. Though his eyes lacked their usual coldness and the face ended up resembling that of a toddler trying to be menacing to avoid eating vegetables. 

“Hello? Kei are you alright?” A small voice rang out, shocking the two teenagers.

“Oh, you’re mom’s on the phone, uh hi Tsukishima-san, uhm your son uh he’s, um, could you come and uh.”

“Full sentences please.”

“Oh right, uhm, could you come pick him up, he’s sick.”

“Oh shit, really? I just got a call from Tadashi’s mother about him catching something so I guess I should’ve seen this coming. Right then, I’m on my way.”

The sound of keys jingling and a door opening came through the phone before the woman on the other end hung up.

“Should you get changed no-”

Kei cut Tobio off by leaning into his chest. Tobio’s heart fluttered as though a hoard of butterflies were dancing around in his ribcage- swirling and looping around each other to the rhythm of Kei’s raspy breath. Not knowing what to do with his hands which were currently held up in the air, he wrapped his right arm around Kei and began stroking his left hand through the middle spikers hair. The beads of sweat clinging to Kei’s hair made the action a bit gross, but Tobio persevered. Kei hummed in happiness, the setter's cool slender fingers not only helped his headache, but also reminded him of his mother's gentle touch. Focusing on the rhythmic strokes of Tobios hand distracted Kei from the growing spike in his chest.

“Mm you,” Kei mumbled in thanks, burying his head deeper into Tobio.

Another long minute passed before Tobio spoke up again,

“We should go outside. Your moms gonna be here soon.”

“Mm.”

Taking that hum as a confirmation to stand up, Tobio pulled himself and Kei’s deadweight up. The task was far from easy, but they managed. With the middle blocker leaning heavily on him, Tobio walked out of the clubroom and into the chilly air.

Walking down the stairs and to the front of the school proved to be a difficult task, but with enough breaks they were able to make it without further incident. Kei’s mother was already there by the time the two had made it out. Tobio mumbled a greeting to her before handing her son over. Concern flashed in her eyes as she gave a quick thanks to Tobio before guiding Kei into her car.

Tobio waved to the Tsukishima’s as they drove off then walked back to the gym. A few stray butterflies lingered in his torso as Kei’s warmth began fading from his side.


	11. Airsick Semi

Eita regretted every decision which played a part in where he was now, 10700 meters in the air in a confined space pressed between a friend and a random stranger who must have never heard of deodorant. Taichi had long since given up on keeping small talk with Eita in favor of resting his head against the plane’s cool wall and catching as much sleep as possible before the rehearsal tonight. 

Their band didn’t usually perform far away gigs, but Taichi somehow managed to persuade everyone to travel all the way to Hawaii to perform at his sister’s wedding- meaning everyone had to suffer 8 hours on a plane over the Pacific Ocean. Well, in all fairness, not everyone was suffering. Taichi had a pleasant look on his face as he slept and Eita was sure his two other bandmates were resting just as calmly up in first class.

Which left Eita, 23, Musician, and first-time flier, to suffer alone. It’s not that flying at such an extreme height got to him- the idea of soaring so high above the water fascinated him- but the gentle shaking of the plane and the toxic smelling food was swirling together to form a wicked sensation deep in his gut. His eyes were squeezed shut and brows furrowed in defense, accompanying his arms which were firmly crossed against his chest.

“You alright?” Taichi’s sleepy voice asked, his finger pulling the right side of his sleeping mask up to eye Eita. A squealing baby a couple of rows ahead had pulled Taichi and many other passengers right out of their slumber.

“Yea, I’m,” a sudden cramp shot up Eita’s gut causing him to inhale sharply through his teeth, “fine.”

“You don’t sound it,” Taichi observed, fully pulling off his mask and tucking it in his back pocket, “What’s up?”

Eita swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut harder as the plane suddenly hit a spot of turbulence. His jaw clenched tightly, telling Taichi everything he needed to know.

“Wait, are you feeling sick?” Taichi asked despite knowing the answer.

Finally opening his eyes, Eita looked over to Taichi and nodded, the tiniest amount of fear swirling in his eyes. He didn’t trust his stomach enough to open his mouth to verbally respond at this point.

“Okay um there should be a bag in that little flap thing in front of you, so just grab that and uh lean over it and you’ll be fine,” Taichi instructed, motioning towards the ‘little flap thing’ in question.

Eita shot his friend a strained smile before flipping through the magazines in the seat in front of him in search of a small paper bag. It only took a second or two for the rough paper bag to find it’s way between his index and middle finger, then another for him to pull it out and began fidgeting with the sharp corners.

“You’re gonna put a hole in it if you keep doing that,” Taichi warned, not wanting to see the aftermath of an ineffective airsickness bag.

Just when Eita moved to give Taichi an apologetic face, his stomach lurched, causing him to instinctively bend forward and bang his head against the seat in front of him. The passenger occupying said seat turned around, her eyebrows furrowed in anger above her oceanic blue eyes. Mascara clumped on her eyelashes, pairing nicely with her shaky eyeliner and two shades off foundation. Her thin lips opened to let out a frenzy of foreign words which- based off the tone of her voice- were incredibly insulting.

‘Probably American’ he thought to himself as she pointed her finger at him and continued ranting in her language, occasionally flicking her head to clear her face of her blonde fringe. He had heard horror stories about these types of people- hell, late-night YouTube dives even revealed a plethora of videos with similar people- but he never thought he’d meet one in real life.

But of course, since life loved messing with people, he did meet one on a plane, sitting right between a random middle-aged man and a longtime friend. The former providing absolutely no comfort and the latter giving emotionless advice.

“Shut up!” Eita finally snapped at the now shocked woman. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, his stress was already high from the sick feeling in his gut, and being yelled at for something he didn’t even do intentionally did nothing to help that, “Please, just calm down. I’m sorry for hitting your seat.”

“Hmph you better be…” She trailed off and sat back down in her seat as Eita lurched forward into the motion-sick bag, a sudden rush of sick entering it with a crinkle.

“Aw shit, are you alright?” Taichi’s voice entered as he placed his hand on Eita’s shaking upper back, “I didn’t think you’d actually get sick.”

The man sitting to the right of Eita scooted as far into the isle as possible without leaving his seat. Before Eita had a chance to apologize or even be embarrassed another wave of nausea crashed over him, causing his back to arch with a heave and him to cough up more sick into the bag.

Taichi let out a sympathetic hum, massaging his fisted hand between Eita’s shoulder blades. A flight attendant walked up with a small cup of sprite which Taichi reached above Eita to accept with a smile.

“I’m going to get another bag for you, let me know if we can do anything,” she informed with a smile.

Focusing his attention back on Eita who was now leaning back in his seat, Tachi gently brushed his ashen fringe to the side of his similarly pale forehead. It was a comforting gesture, helping Eita’s eyebrows soften just the tiniest bit, though it was also a way for Taichi to be sure Eita wasn’t sporting a fever of some sort- which he wasn’t.

“We got some sprite, do you think that would help?” Tachi offered, extending the hand with sprite in it towards his seatmate.

“Mm, my stomachs calm right now so I can try,” Eita responded, gently taking the small cup into his shaky hands.

He took a sip, testing the waters of having a new substance enter his stomach. When all seemed fine after a moment he began to slowly drink more. The bubbles didn’t immediately cure his nausea, but they were definitely helping. Eita’s headache was beginning to dull as well, most likely a result of the much-needed energy the soda provided. He soon finished the cup and set it between his legs.

“Are you done with that?” The now returned flight attendant queried, pointing at the soiled bag in Eita’s hand.

“Oh, yea, uh, here,” Eita awkwardly handed the bag to her, wincing in sympathy for the poor bystander caught in the middle of the transfer.

“And in case you feel sick again I have another bag for you,” she smiled and handed him a folded paper bag.

He nodded his thanks as she departed, tucking the bag into the seat in front of him where he had originally found the first one.

“Do you think we can use this as an excuse to get first class on the way back?” Taichi wondered aloud.

“Yea I don’t think they’re gonna let those seats up easily,” Eita laughed back, recalling the stubborn nature of his two bandmates.


	12. Carsick MSBY Sakusa

It started about an hour into the road trip.

An odd feeling began pushing on Kiyoomi’s center, sending a dull pain all the way up to his head where it fluttered around, poking at the back of his eyes and causing overall discomfort. The joyful banter of his teammates did nothing to soothe the ache festering inside of him. On normal days, their quips and odd conversations were tolerable, enjoyable on rare occasion- but today was not a normal day.

Today was road-trip day.

Kiyoomi had no idea who thought this was necessary. They could’ve gone to a nearby restaurant or even gone on a walk and bonded the same amount. The car ride was really unnecessary.

Shouyou seemed to have been the only one to take notice of Kiyoomi’s struggle, forcing a cool water bottle into the latter’s hands and advising him to stay hydrated. ‘It helps with the headache’ he had explained with a wide smile. And it had, well not in the way it was supposed to. Instead of actually drinking the liquid, Kiyoomi opted for pressing the cool plastic against his forehead and leaning back, his eyes drooping to a half-asleep state.

He stayed like that until the r.v slowed to a stop before the keys were pulled out of the ignition and sleeping positions were called out. Kiyoomi couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to where he was meant to go. While the r.v had ceased movement, his mind and gut were far from still.

Deciding to take a chance, he walked over to one of the lower bunk beds and lowered himself onto the stiff mattress, ignoring the fact that he was still in his day clothes. It seemed to be the right move- none of his teammates said anything out loud or told him he was at the wrong bed.

So he remained, back facing out in an attempt to ward off his teammates. The attempt wasn’t too successful, while no one said anything to him, Kiyoomi could still feel their eyes burning through the think blanket and his shirt right into his back. He curled his knees up to his chest, hugging them as close as his sensitive stomach would allow.

After a couple minutes of him laying there trying his best to ignore the noises of his teammates settling into their respective sleeping areas, the light flicked off, drowning the automobile in darkness. The only light being a soft yellow glow drifting in through the front windows- its source being a nearby light pole.

Kiyoomi squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying his best to ward off the swirling feeling in his gut which only seemed to be intensifying by the second. To make things worse, metallic saliva began pooling in his mouth.

He needed to get out of here.

Pulling himself out of bed and onto weak legs, Kiyoomi stumbled to where he hoped the door was, pushing it open and practically falling onto the pebbles beside the car. He took a couple of steps away from the r.v before a harsh gag ripped through his throat.

Tears sprang to his eyes as the reality of the situation sank in. He really was about to be sick.

Another gag sent him doubling forward, clasping his hand over his mouth as though it would magically rid the nausea ruthlessly attacking him.

“Omi-san, are you alright?” Shoyou’s concerned voice called out from the r.v’s open door.

He didn’t receive a verbal reply.

Instead, another gag sent Kiyoomi to his knees, his right hand remaining pressed tightly against his mouth.

“Oh.”

Small hands, presumably Shoyou’s, began rubbing circles on Kiyoomi’s arched back. At first, Kiyoomi winced away, the tough startling him. Though as soon as he realized it was from a trusted source he allowed the touch to continue.

“Carsick? I’ve been there,” he commented, sympathy weighing heavily on his tone, “Y’know it used to be really bad. You should’ve seen what happened on like, the first bus ride when I attended Karasuno. It was bad. But it feels a lot better once you let it out.”

Kiyoomi shook his head in refusal to ‘letting it all out.’ He managed this long, he could manage a little longer.

“It’ll be alright, trust me,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down his back to encourage his stomach.

Another gag ripped through Kiyoomi, finally bringing a mouthful of vomit with it. It fell through Kiyoomi’s fingers and fell on the pebbles below.

“Keep going, you’re almost done,” Shoyou added, rubbing his hands along Kiyoomi’s back a bit faster.

There was no holding down his stomach at this point. A combination of preexisting nausea, the grotesque smell of the sick on his hands and around his mouth, and the acidic taste lacing his tongue only encouraged the emptying of his stomach.

Before he could get another thought out, Kiyoomi’s gut clenched, forcing a thicker wave of vomit between his lips and leaving him no choice but to pull his hand away from his mouth. Instead pushing it against the ground to help stabilize him.

He coughed a couple of times in an attempt to free his throat and mouth from any residue sick. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, stinging them before dropping down to the floor to join with the puddle of sick.

A choked sob forced it’s way out, bringing with it another gag and another wave of vomit. Shoyou continued to tell Kiyoomi words of encouragement, his hands massaging the latters back rhythmically.

“Do you think you’re done?” Shouyou questioned gently, presenting a water bottle and towel when Kiyoomi turned his head to the side.

Kiyoomi moved away from the puddle before repositioning himself to be sitting upright and cross-legged, his dirty hand extended far away from his body. After he was content with the position, he nodded to Shoyou- gratefully taking the towel and wiping his hand down. It didn’t do much to help his overall state, but baby steps.

Once he was content with the cleanliness of his hand, Kiyoomi reached for the bottle, unscrewing the cap before taking in a mouthful to swish around and spit out. He repeated this process until only half the bottle remained and he was satisfied with the taste, or lack thereof, in his mouth.

“See you did it!” Shoyou commented from his crouched position beside him, “I have anti-sickness tablets you could take before we leave tomorrow, they really help.”

Kiyoomi mumbled a thanks before asking for tissues.

“Oh right! I have some right here,” he pulled out a pocket container of tissues, pulling a four sheets lose and passing them over to Kiyoomi.

He mumbled his thanks once more before starting the job of wiping his face clean.

Shoyou let him be for a couple minutes, instead looking up tp the star splattered sky. A sense of calm lay over the atmosphere like a weighted blanket, almost as though it was attempting to lul every living creature on Earth to a peaceful sleep.

“I’m going back in now,” Kiyoomi informed, slowly pulling himself to his feet.

“Oh let me help,” Shoyou offered, jumping upright and pulling Kiyoomi up the rest of the way.

Once they were both upright, Kiyoomi pulled Shoyou into a hug. Shock caused Shoyou’s eyes to widened, a hug from Kiyoomi was a rare instance, but as soon as the initial shock faded he hugged back, lightly squeezing as to not set the other’s stomach off once more.

“Let’s go to sleep now,” Shoyou whispered once the hug ended.

“Yea, I’d like that.”


	13. Sick Oikawa

Drowsiness weighed down on every muscle in Tooru’s body. A splitting headache stabbed behind his eyes, only worsened from the caffeine slowly fading from his system and the computer’s evil white glow. Dark bags sagged below his strained eyes as his fingers mechanically moved across the keyboard of his cheep laptop, pressing down on the chosen keys to form a string of words which justified the actions of an antagonist from the novel he speed read in one week. At this point, Tooru couldn’t remember what life was like outside of school work, years old volleyball match recordings, coffee and sleep deprivation.

Sighing greatly, Tooru leaned back in the chair and squeezed his eyes shut. A vague feeling of nausea had manifested deep in his core now, it’s pain was not yet as prominent as the headache though, so Tooru opted to ignore it.

He just had to wait it out. The essay was almost done and Hajime should be home any minute now. All Tooru had to do was persevere, and maybe drink one more cup of coffee to help with that.

And so he did, the strong smell of caffeine practically punching him in the gut as the deep liquid poured into the cup below. It would be worth it, Tooru believed, the caffeine would provide him with just enough energy to greet Hajime at the door and stay up for a movie before they curled up between the sheets and whispered how their day was to each other while they both slowly fall asleep.

All he had to do was drink this one cup and maybe take an Advil. He could probably use a granola bar too.

That one thing was beginning to sound more and more difficult as Tooru’s stomachache began to slowly intensify. The thought of putting anything in his stomach, especially more coffee, sent waves of cool nausea through his whole body. Though, the coffee was already made and steaming in Tooru’s alien mug- gifted to him by Hajime after Tooru had given him a Godzilla mug.

Groaning slightly, he brought the warm mug up to his lips and took a quick sip.

Bad idea, very bad idea.

Immediately his stomach flipped, giving Tooru no warning before a sharp gag sent him scrambling for the sink.

Dirty dishes littered the basin, causing Tooru to curse his luck. That would not be fun to clean up later on. He didn’t have the time to move to the bathroom before a loud, unproductive retch forced it’s way up his throat. Pain ripped through his throat as he coughed, strings of saliva falling into the sink.

Tooru choked out a sob just before another heave racked his body, successfully bringing up a mouthful of acidic coffee. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the counter for stability, his weak arms being the only thing keeping him from falling face-first into the sink.

There he sat for a minute, gasping into the sink as he desperately tried to regain control over his stomach. The fight was a losing one, the fact confirmed by a sudden lurch in his gut which brought with it a large stream of brown sick, drops of it ricocheting off the sink basin and landing on the counter or back on his face, combining with the hot tears steadily leaving his eyes.

Suddenly, the familiar clicking of a key unlocking the front door reached his ears, alerting the arrival of Hajime.

“Oi, you here?” His voice called out into the apartment following the closing of the door.

Tooru responded by gagging loudly and sending another wave of vomit into the sink. Hajime cursed under his breath before kicking off his shoes and hurrying to the source of the awful noise.

“Hey, hey you’re okay,” He consoled, placing a steady arm under Tooru to hold him up and using his other to massage circles into his back, “shit, why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier,” Tooru choked out between sobs.

“Okay, it’s alright,” Hajime continued, ripping a paper towel off the roll to wipe Tooru’s mouth off before using his thumbs to wipe the tears off his cheeks, “Can we move you to the couch?”

Tooru nodded, feeling confident enough in his stomach to move. Just in case though, Hajime grabbed a container from the cabinet before half carrying him to the other room.

They made it over to the couch without incident, Hajime gently lowered Tooru to the couch, placing the pot on the floor next to his head.

“I’m going to get you some water and a thermometer,” Hajime informed before stepping out of the room.

Tooru pulled the blanket up under his chin, the added weight and warmth pulling is eyes shut and willing him off to sleep. He allowed himself to drift away to the gentle background noise of Hajime searching around for supplies.

Just before he fully lost consciousness, Hajime returned and set a glass of water down on the table adjacent to the couch.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, placing his left hand under Tooru’s chin and helping him with the action before sticking the object under his tongue.

“I don’t understand how you could’ve caught something,” Hajime commented mostly to himself, “You’ve been locked in here for days.”

“M’ not sick,” Tooru admitted, looking up to Hajime with lidded eyes as the latter ran strong fingers through his hair, “I’ve had a lot of work to do and I’ve been really stressed and I haven’t been sleeping and I can’t remember eating anything other than coffee and granola bars.”

Hajime’s eyes widened as his face flashed between expressions of sympathy and anger.

“Why?” He asked, slowly pulling the thermometer out of Tooru’s mouth, not seeing a need for it anymore, “You need, you should, I don’t get it?” He stammered out, eyebrows furrowed in thought and concern.

“I know, it’s just,” Tooru looked down at the brown blanket covering him, “I have so many deadlines and I don’t have the time to do the work during the day, well I just don’t feel like doing it then, and then I have to stay up to do it and I don’t have the energy to make food and coffee is just so easy.”

“Your health though! You do realize how awful doing shit like this is to your body, right? I’m scared for you, it was terrifying coming home to hear you being sick. You can take breaks you know,” Hajime went on, positioning himself in a way which forced Tooru to look him in the eyes.

“I know,” Tooru tried his hardest to avoid eye contact. 

Seeing Hajime’s fierce brown eyes turn so soft and worried pained him.

“So why?”

“What else can I do? I’m not gonna get better sitting around and doing nothing. I tried emailing my professors but it’s my fault for procrastinating.”

“Tell me then! I’m here to help you. I can make you food, I can help you do papers or whatever. Anything to keep you from sinking this low!” Hajime informed, mildly hurt at how Tooru didn’t even think of him as an option.

“Really, Iwa-chan?”

“Now and always,” Hajime pulled Tooru close, hugging him as tightly as possible considering their awkward position, “Now you put on a movie, I’ll make some snacks and then we’ll fall asleep, okay? We can finish your work up tomorrow- I have the day off.”


	14. Kitagawa Daiichi Haunted House

“Oh, cmon! It’ll be fun!” Tooru sang out, both of Hajime’s hands pressed between his own.

Hajime eyes the towering house behind his friend. It looked just about the furthest thing from fun-- not that he was scared of the faux cobwebs or wood painted to look old and rundown, he just felt like it wouldn’t be the best idea for their underclassmen who were currently stood next to Tooru.

Yuutarou was mirroring Tooru’s puppy eyes, his lower lip propped out in an attempt to convince Hajime to let the group into the house. Tobio was just standing there, his hand wrapped tightly around Tooru’s jacket, his face pointed to the ground as though he would rather be somewhere else-- probably somewhere involving a volleyball. Akira looked downright disinterested, his eyes half-lidded and looking at the people walking by the group.

“Pleaseeee,” Tooru and Yuutarou begged in unison upon Hajime’s silence, “If you let us go then you can choose the movie for movie nights for the rest of the year!” Tooru finished alone.

This caught Hajime’s ear.

Tooru’s taste in cinema was… interesting to say the least, and the last time Hajime actually enjoyed what the two watched for movie night was months ago on his birthday when he got to choose.

“Hm,” He looked into Tooru’s eyes, a huge mistake on his behalf. The lure of numerous movie nights and impossible-to-say-no-to pout finally pushed him to the edge, “fine. But you’re paying.”

“Yahoo!” He cheered, letting lose Hajime’s hands in favor of giving Yuutarou a double high-five. 

-

“Stand on your tippy-toes, we need to look 18,” Tooru instructed to everyone once the group was outside the entrance of the haunted house.

Unease was swirling in Hajime as the monochromatic house loomed over him, grey clouds illuminated by the setting sun gathering above, adding to the eerie aura.

“Are you sure this is a good ide-”

“Shush Iwa-chan! There’s no going back!” With that, Tooru grabbed onto Hajime’s hand and pulled him into the dark house, the first years trailing behind them.

Right off the bat Hajime and Tooru were screaming their heads off. Zombies with poorly done makeup were hopping out from doorways, some even getting caught in the same cobwebs they set up. Vampires with vibrant fake red blood bore their dollar store fangs, hissing like cats and terrifying Hajime and Tooru. The first-year trio were laughing under their breath in response, it was hard not to really. Tooru had Hajime’s wrist in a deathlike grip, the latter sporting wide eyes and clenched fists.

They continued in this formation, Tooru’s grip slowly loosening as fear zapped his strength. Their screams began quieting down to whimpers and suddenly the first years behind them weren’t finding humor in the situation anymore.

The rest of the attraction dragged on. Jumpscares were scarce, the actors seemingly able to tell how poorly the group was doing and avoiding giving them much of a scare. Tooru and Hajime were to out of it to be appreciative and the other three were too concerned to even notice.

“Are you okay?” Tobio asked Tooru once they had finally exited the stuffy house.

Tooru whimpered, his arms crossed loosely against his stomach as fear swirled together with nausea angrily within. Hajime squatted down, his hands holding his knees as he leaned forward, eyes squeezed shut.

Yuutarou began rubbing circles on Hajime’s back, guilt flooding him and keeping his eyes glued to the ground beside him.

Akira looked pitifully out of his element, standing to the side awkwardly and watching the scene unfold. There wasn’t much for him to do, Yuutarou had Hajime covered and Tobio still had a piece of Tooru’s jacket in his clutch.

After a moment or two of them sitting like this in silence, Tooru coughed, bending forward at the waist. His mouth fell open to let saliva fall onto the asphalt below. A harsh gag ripped through him. Tobio backed up with wide eyes just before a wave of sick pushed its way out onto the ground.

Hajime looked over at the sound, his eyes widening and cheeks puffing out. Looking back at the ground between his feet, he felt his stomach lurch. Tears sprang to the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold down his stomach. It didn’t work, of course, and only a second later did a small wave of vomit spill pass his lips.

Yuutarou let a sympathetic gag before steeling himself and apologizing.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ Hajime wanted to say, but words failed to come as another gag.

A couple of feet away Tobio had his hand awkwardly splayed on Tooru’s upper back. The latter with slightly bent knees and a left arm pressed against his left knee, and right hand hugging his midsection.

Another smaller wave forced it’s way out of Tooru with a hard cough and a noise which sounded all too similar to a sob.

Hajime pulled himself up off the grown, using his own knees for support and brushing Yuutarou’s hand off. He stumbled over to Tooru and gave him a chop on the back right under where Tobio’s hand was splayed.

“Shittykawa,” He looked like we wanted to say more, chastise Tooru further, but no words came to mind.

Not that they needed to, Tooru got the memo. Spitting one last time, he pulled himself upright and looked at Hajime. 

“Rest of the year and all the way through February?”

“Deal.”


	15. Sick Oikawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one does have a lot of talk of stalkers as well as panic

Eyes bore into his back 24/7. Their harsh gaze sending waves of swirling anxiety throughout his body, numbing his fingertips and increasing his heart rate ever so slightly. The smallest breeze ruffling the curtains was enough for Tooru to call a friend over (usually Hajime who was 100% done and even more convinced that Tooru was just being paranoid) and hug them close to help get his mind off the idea.

The mysterious watched didn’t intervene though, simply watched from the shadows, the mere idea of his presence causing far more harm than any physical intervention could.

That didn’t stop Tooru from staying locked in at night, thick curtains taped together over the blinds in his room with Hajime on speed-dial.

His evening plans were foiled, though, after Tooru’s mother requested for him to walk down to the shops a block away to pick up seasoning for dinner. Tooru gave his mother his best puppy eyes, trying his hardest to convince her of the seriousness of the situation. But mother Oikawa was not having it and remained adamant on having him walk the short distance.

With a resigned whine, Tooru complied.

He pulled on the thicked sweatshirt he could find, coupled with the thickest sweatpants and darkest sunglasses. His best attempt at remaining unrecognizable.

The first three street signs came and went with no event, but Tooru didn’t loosen in the slightest. Yellow tinted street lights flickered, casting an eerie golden glow onto the buildings and shrubbery, sending tall taunting shadows up the sidewalk.

Finally, the shops came into view.

Tooru quickened his pace.

Only then did his ears pick up on the light stepping noise behind him.

His breath stopped, caught in his throat like a stubborn lump of thorns, refusing to move, refusing to allow any passage of air.

He paused, hoping the steps were an illusion of sound.

They weren’t

Tooru wanted to run, sprint to the warm safety of the store, relish the sickly sweet smile of the shopkeeper, and kiss every product on the shelf.

But he couldn’t.

The light grey asphalt of the sidewalk reached up, consuming Tooru’s feet and rooting him fast to the ground.

Tooru brought a shaky fist up to his mouth, anxiety ferociously attacking his stomach, sending waves of nausea and chills up and down his spine. His eyes were wide, looking at the ground in front of it but taking in nothing but black splotches.

The steps got closer, their steady pace echoing down the otherwise silent road.

Tooru wanted to scream and alert any nearby ears of the danger he was currently in. Anything to save him from facing whoever was slowly approaching him. But his throat was clenched, dry, and blocking any sound from passing.

Instead, a hard retch tore through his core, throwing his upper body forward and sending his glasses clattering to the ground.

Tooru pressed his hands into his knees, cursing his body for refusing to let him run to safety. He felt vulnerable. Pitifully exposed to whatever motives the person behind him may have.

Another heave was sent through his body, the nausea in his stomach unbearable and his head light with fear. Strain brought tears to his eyes, popping the veins on his temple out an unattractive amount.

Maybe if he made himself undesirable enough whoever was stoop behind him would walk away.

It wasn’t working though, the sturdy hand on his back assuring as much.

The foreign touch sent Tooru over the edge.

A gurgle sounded in the back of his throat, the only warning the two received before Tooru laid a mouthful of his lunch out onto the sidewalk.

Once the first bit came free, the rest couldn’t be stopped. Tooru coughed again, sending a far thicker wave splattering on to the sidewalk.

“Are you ill?” The monotone voice sounded from behind him.

The voice was strangely familiar.

Tooru’s foggy mind struggled to grasp where the hints of familiarity came from.

“At Shiratorizawa we are sure to maintain top health among our players.”

“Holy shit,” Tooru managed to choke out at the realization of who his ‘stalker’ was.

Tooru shakily pulled himself up, hints of panic still tingling at the tips of his limps. The hand on his back fell down to its owner’s side as Tooru turned to face him.

“What the hell?” He exclaimed, using his sleeve to wipe the residue sick from his mouth. It was far from sanitary, but there weren’t any other options at hand.

“Kleenex?” Wakatoshi offered, reaching into his pant pocket and pulling out a small rectangle of tissues wrapped in a thin plastic wrap.

Tooru looked at him skeptically, his right eyebrow propped high above his socket before humming a thanks and grabbing one of the napkins. It was soft with the quaint smell of fabric softener and a light cologne. Unsurprising considering how well Wakatoshi took care of himself and his objects.

“Water?” Wakatoshi reached into another pocket and pulled out a plastic waterbottle.

Tooru internally debated the pros and cons of accepting the drink. On one hand, the acidic layer coating his mouth and throat was really, really, unpleasant, but on the other hand; Tooru was too prideful to accept so much from who he had been considering his enemy for the past years. He bit his lip, looking at the bottle in Wakashi’s hand for a couple seconds before giving in and taking it with a hum of thanks.

He took a swig, squishing it around his mouth for a second before spitting it onto the ground. After one or two repeats of this action, Tooru was satisfied with the taste of his mouth.

“You should finish that. You need to get your fluid levels back up.”

Tooru rolled his eyes, biting back a snarky remark before taking his advice. It wasn’t that he didn’t want water, he had been negligent to his water intake recently and his throat was dry and burning.

He began with timid sips, testing the limits of his stomach. The sudden cool shocked his throat but in a pleasant way. His stomach stayed it’s place, prompting Tooru to drink more.

“So, what are you doing out here?” Wakatoshi inquired, stretching his arms behind his head.

“My mom wanted me to get her some stuff,” Tooru informed after swallowing a mouthful of water.

“Even though you’re sick?”

“‘M not sick.”

“Then what was-”

“Nothing.”

Wakatoshi didn’t press anymore. If Tooru wanted him to know then he would say it on his own.

“Do you think,” Tooru began quietly, pausing briefly to summon up the courage to continue his request, “Do you think you could walk with me?”

“Of course,” Wakatoshi agreed, falling in step with Tooru who had began closing the distance between them and the store.


End file.
